


The Witcher (TV) One-Shots

by ginandfrolic



Category: British Actor RPF, The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Dominant Henry Cavill, Dry Humping, F/M, Grinding, How Do I Tag, Mild Smut, No Plot/Plotless, One Shot, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Tags Are Hard, Thighs, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:47:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26703199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginandfrolic/pseuds/ginandfrolic
Summary: Dear reader, you are a hair & makeup artist working on the set of The Witcher series. Today you’re working with Henry Cavill and meeting him for the first time makes you hot and bothered.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Reader, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/You, Henry Cavill/Reader, Henry Cavill/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 106





	The Witcher (TV) One-Shots

**Author's Note:**

> Idk man. I came up with this after starting The Witcher on Netflix. I've never played the games or read the books and am only a few episodes in, so my portrayal of Geralt was mostly influenced by Cavill's hotness. Thus, producing this fictional/real-person fusion scenario.
> 
> Warnings: Other than the obvious since it's rated E; swearing.

It was early; _really_ early. Whoever woke up at the dawn’s ass crack because they _wanted_ to belonged in an asylum, you thought, as you groggily shuffled across the parking lot with a cup of coffee in hand. You were grateful for the security lights overhead, as intrusive as they were to your eyes; the sun wasn’t even up to properly welcome you to the day.

Once you found the hair and makeup trailer, you carefully ascended the short stairway with your morning clumsiness and swung the door open. The clock in there read 4:45 AM; only a quarter ‘til Henry arrived for his hair and makeup, so long as the costume fitting ran on time. You spent the fifteen minutes relishing the quiet as you sipped on the hot coffee, hoping the caffeine would travel quickly to your brain. A couple breathing exercises mentally prepared you for the long day ahead, and you felt more alive as you organized all of your cosmetics and hair supplies on a roller cart. 

A hand rapped at the door, making you jump in your skin. “Come in,” you invited. The door squeaked as it opened and a pair of footsteps drew near. When you turned, your eyes fixed on him. He suddenly filled the small space of the trailer in his tall stature, but you felt less intimidated when he flashed you a warm smile. He resembled Geralt from the neck down already, as he was wearing his armor and pauldrons, and those _goddamn_ black trousers that seemed to hug every single fiber of muscle on those thick legs.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m Henry.” His lovely accent rolled off his tongue like velvet; you were stunned at the effect it had on you as his words traveled to the sacred space between your thighs. Your voice seemed to die in your throat as you gave him your name. His large, rough hand dwarfed yours when you took his hand for a polite handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too. Please, make yourself comfortable,” you offered as you showed him to the seat of your workstation.

You leaned with your lower back against counter, facing him as you quickly deliberated how you would start. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. Everything from his chiseled jaw to his bright eyes made you weak at the knees. “So, we’ll start with makeup, then your wig, which I’ve already styled for you,” you told him, trying to concentrate. “I was told the makeup is simple today. Just a few scars and dirt, so everything shouldn’t take more than an hour tops.”

“Sounds great,” he smiled at you and you swore your knees would give in, if it weren’t for the counter you were propped up against.

You took no time in working on him, sharing idle chat in a lame excuse to make conversation with him. But you were really nervous and couldn’t help it. Especially at this proximity where you could see how his eyebrows feathered over those beautiful eyes and every eyelash. He picked up on your tension as a makeup brush trembled in your fingers, and enveloped his warm hand over yours, as if steadying you.

“You okay?” he chuckled.

“Yeah,” you said, half-lying. “It’s just, I-I was already a huge fan of yours before today, and I’m having a hard time processing that you’re literally right in front of me. I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

“Oh, you’re fine,” he reassured. He brought your fingers to his lips and softly kissed them as he refused to look away with those damn ocean eyes. Your lips parted in a silent gasp, and your face flushed when you realized the gesture was making heat pool between your legs. You bit your lip and looked at your feet quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice you blushing.

“Thanks,” you told him, laughing nervously.

The makeup didn’t take long at all, nor did the wig fitting. Honestly, the most troubling part was blending in the lace on the wig with the makeup, but everything was still running on time when you were finished. You trailed your hand down the silver locks of hair that ended just past his shoulders and smiled at the transformation in front of you. You weren’t sure to call him Henry or Geralt now since you were quite happy with your work.

“Still nervous?” he asked you in a playful tone, raising a brow at you. 

“N-no,” you lied. That stutter wasn’t convincing at all.

“Good,” he said with a wink. “Looks great… and it looks like I’m still early for shooting, actually...” You weren’t sure what he was suggesting since he hadn’t rose from the chair yet, but nodded silently at him as you felt yourself shrinking in front of him. “Come here.” He gently encouraged you towards him with a hand on the small of your back.

“What – what are you –”

Ignoring you, he added, “I can put on the contacts on myself, so no worries there.” Oh, yeah. Duh. You forgot that tiny detail since you were too busy being flustered – you still felt his soft lips on your hand – and were glad he brought it up. He continued to nudge you forward until his knee was _right_ at the crotch of your pants; you were mortified when you realized that he _has_ to be able to feel the heat radiating from your aching cunt. He gave you a smirk before deliberately slotting his knee between your thighs.

 _Oh shit_.

Your arousal was _definitely_ evident to him now as the sudden invasion pulled a whimper out of you. You bit your bottom lip in a futile attempt to stifle the sound, but you knew it was already too late. 

“This okay?” he murmured; his voice gravelly now as his gaze became predatory. Quite fitting for the witcher. You nodded meekly in response, petrified of saying something stupid in return. Your back was stiffened straight as your cunt just hovered over his knee; the torturous friction of the fabric ready to destroy you.

He watched your face in amusement before whispering, “Just relax,” and gripped you by the hips to push your weight fully on his thigh. A relieved sigh escaped your lips as you shuddered and closed your eyes, embarrassed by your display of wanton desire for this man you only just met. The late hours spent at home to touch yourself in his name was your wet dream fully realized. One firm hand remained on your hip as the other slid across the small of your back, slithering its way under your shirt. The touch was electrifying, sending shockwaves to your sex and summoning the lustful slick from you. 

You tried to bury the shameless sounds emanating from your throat by biting down hard on your lip; your eyes still shut when you suddenly felt a warm, broad hand engulf your lower jaw. His thumb rippled softly over your lip. When your eyes opened, he looked into them before leaning his head forward to whisper, “You don’t have to hide those beautiful sounds from me, darling.” Fuck. His remark and hot breath on the sensitive skin of your neck assaulted your core; you were throbbing and soaked now and you were certain he could feel it through his clothes.

He steadied you on his firm leg, using his hand that rested on your lower back to gently shift your body forward as your straddling legs began to shake. Heat sunk into your belly, threatening to release if he dared to continue. And he did. His eyes watched your lips as he coaxed your body forward and back, loving the lewd, needy sounds that left your mouth as you desperately ground your clit onto him. His trousers were suddenly becoming too tight, the proof of your desire spurring on his own arousal.  


Your breaths were becoming more erratic as you felt the impending climax sneak up on you, and in an attempt to quiet yourself further, you melted against his broad chest and rested your cheek between his corded neck and pauldron. His erection grew aching and painful as your pathetic whimpers tickled his neck; your eyes now rolling back in your pleasure that was dangerously close to becoming undone. He whispered sweet little praises in your ear, further drenching your cunt before the pressure within you was _so close_ to bursting.

You mewled into his clothes, frantically chasing your ruin.

“That’s it,” he purred. “Come for me, darling. Come on my leg.”

He encouraged your release with a harsh nip to your earlobe. White light shot behind your vision as you clenched violently over his rigid thigh, your cunt fluttering and spasming in your summit and a long, shameless moan fell from your lips. His bruising grip continued to work your hips into his thigh, dragging your soaked cunt through the sensitive aftershocks of your orgasm as you tried to regulate your breathing. “Good girl,” he mumbled to you.

A few moments later, a rapid knock was heard from the door of the trailer. “Come on! Let’s _gooooo_!” a voice called out. Fuck. It was five past when Henry was supposed to be shooting.

“Shit! I’m sorry,” you said hurriedly, looking up at him sheepishly. As you dismounted his lap, your hand brushed over his throbbing cock through the fabric, disappointed that your time with him slipped away so quickly. “You should go.” 

“Next time,” he promised.


End file.
